lovely, dark and deep
by theDarkIsRising
Summary: If you think your body is the one private place you have free from everyone but yourself, think again. A dark invocation has been sent out and they are answering. But who are they being called to? Who is going to literally lose their minds?
1. who is watching who?

darkisrising

lovely, dark and deep

who is watching who?

* * *

You know how when you are left alone in a house at night strange sounds seem to emit from everywhere. So to keep the frightened feelings at bay, we turn up the telly, stare harder at the book we are reading or just reassurance ourselves that we are being silly. Nothing is wrong. It's just our imagination.

The woods at night teem with odd and startling thuds, swishes, and cracks. Harmless animals. Nothing with sharp teeth. No. Not a person following close behind, waiting to grab and carry us off.

What if, instead, this is all happening in your head?

Those thoughts bouncing around are not yours. The images are not any you have ever seen. The names you whisper in the dark are a mystery upon your lips.

What then? What explanation to make it seem alright?

Are you simply going mad?

Or something much, much worse?

----

SHE SUCKED IN A rapid and shuddering breath as she grasped her throat. With the hasty intake of air, she began to cough and covered her mouth to deaden the sound. Eyes wide, she looked around the very calm and normal surroundings of her bedroom. Wearily rubbing her eyes, she easily recalled what had awoken her. The pair of hands wrapping itself around her neck had seemed so real; she could very well feel her esophagus caving in, the restriction of air flow killing her.

Hermione flopped back against the lumpy pillow for a few moments before deciding that she was not going to be drifting off any time soon. Groaning, she rolled off the mattress, wrapping a shawl around her bare arms. She made her way into the kitchen to mix a little draft to help her go back to sleep. Be it magical potion or Muggle alcohol. She knew the house had both; they made far too many appearances these days. Not stifling a huge yawn, she entered the cooking space and started backwards at the figure already standing in the room. Hermione reflexively raised her lit wand higher, casting long shadows down the wall.

The man blinked owlishly at the sudden brightness with only a lifted mug to block the invading radiance. "Hermione, mind lowering that a bit. A little early for the sun, don't you think?"

"Sorry," she croaked from sleepiness. "_Nox_." Soon a few dim conjured candles softly illuminated the two.

Silently, she set about pulling some chilled Dreamless Sleep Potion from the icebox and carefully measured it into a plaid, chipped mug, adding a dash of whiskey for good measure. Hermione steeled herself for the taste before downing the entire glass in one chugging swig. The liquid set her insides on fire as it made its way down.

"Hope you weren't planning on operating a broom or any heavy machinery," he quipped, grimacing along with her as she set the mug back down.

She shook her head sluggishly. "No, Remus, just planning on sleeping without people strangling me. It's quite bothersome."

Remus nodded understandingly, not speaking. He returned his own glass to the counter and then moved closer to a swaying Hermione. "As bothersome as taking a sleeping potion and not being in a bed at the time?"

"Well, bugger." She drew out the last syllable as she glared accusingly at the offending remnants of potion. "That was completely idiotic of me." Her heavy lids drooped suddenly and she fell forward in an instant sleep. The shawl slipped from her shoulders in the exceeding short fall into a pair of awaiting arms.

"Like a light," muttered Remus. With ease, he held her to his chest and slipped his left hand under her legs. Carrying her up the grand staircase only a Black could have afforded, he shook his head good-naturedly. This encounter may have been funny enough for even him to go back to sleep. He looked down at the young witch breathing evenly in his arms. It seemed he was not the only one experiencing unpleasant dreams tonight. In his, he was not the one being killed instead –he hated to think about it- he was the one doing the killing. All the pleading eyes for mercy and he had shone none. Remus had awoken tangled in his sheets and breathing heavy from the exertion. Snuffing out lives was strenuous work even if in a dream.

Pushing open her door, he tried to sweep the ridiculous dream from his mind. That was not him. He did not do such things, such horrible things. Remus attempted to put her down without disturbing her; though he doubted with all that was running through her system a herd of hippogriffs could trample down the hall and she would not know. Dutifully, he pulled the covers back around her shoulders and returned her wand to her bedside table. Remus stood there for a moment, running his fingers through his horrid case of bed head. Finally, he turned away, shutting the door softly behind him and reclaiming his own bed. Remus tried to replay the humorous image of Hermione realizing her folly through his head to keep from thinking about what could be to come.

It did not work.

Neither did Hermione's concoction. Not only did the same dream resurface to plague her relentlessly for the rest of the night, but she could not awaken from it as before. The potion kept her hovering outside of wakefulness when she desperately wanted nothing more. As her body at last shook off the effects, Hermione gasped and chocked more violently than before. An entire night of that had built up to her barely being able to take in air.

But the Dreamless Sleep Potion should have suppressed the strangling and any other images, good or bad, her brain could have tried to bring up as she slept. On the contrary, this go-around was much more realistic and vicious as she blacked out from the lack of oxygen. Gingerly touching her throat, it did feel sore to the touch. Pressing her hand to her forehead, Hermione was completely befuddled. The dream should have been kept from her. She had made a complete idiot of herself in front of Remus for a night of blank, blissful sleep.

_You brainless girl, you can't suppress a memory._

A memory?

Hermione had never in her entire life had ever been strangled or handled in such a manner. How could she recollect what had never happened?

_Never happened to you, true. To me, yes. _

Her eyes raked the room from side to side. Had someone spoken out loud? Hermione could have sworn someone was talking to her because she sure had not voiced or thought that idea. Moving her hands to the side of her head, she massaged her temples and let out an exasperated sight. The strange dream thing was getting to her; that was for certain. She laughed nervously. Maybe the house was getting to her. Black Manor was creepy enough, yet even more so with the lack of people in it. She was thankful tonight there would be an Order meeting and several of the members would be staying for awhile.

Strange dreams and voices.

Never a good sign even in the wizarding world.

She rolled her eyes at the words she had spoken to Harry in Second Year. Had it been that long ago with the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk? Tumbling out of bed, Hermione strolled across the slants of sunlight invading through the curtains to her wardrobe. Upon passing the door, she felt the compulsion to reach out her hand and touch it. As she did so, she whispered a name. "Julius."

The footsteps that had been passing paused on the other side of her. It felt as if they too had put their hand up on the wood because the door shuddered under another weight. As soon as the weird moment came, it left and Hermione stood between her bed and her dresser, wondering why she was standing by her door. She looked down at her hand.

She was officially losing it.

And then all the peculiarities were wiped cleanly from her mind and she dressed for breakfast without worry. Except for the tug at the back of her consciousness about a rather terrible nightmare. Instinctively, Hermione rubbed her neck. She simply shrugged it off.

An unusual twisted grin graced her features for a split second though as quick as a whip a thought flashed across her mind soon to be forgotten with the others.

_Silly, little Mudblood._


	2. beginning compulsions

darkisrising (my muse has come back. hoping for a refuge could see an update. --V dearest, were you being sarcastic?--)

lovely, dark and deep

beginning compulsions

* * *

Burning. Everything was burning. Violent, bright orange and red exploded across the landscape. Screams emitted as the living tried to flee. But it did not bother him as he stood amongst the flames consuming the village around him. He had seen it all before.

It certainly did not worry her as she pushed another limp body roughly away, letting it fall to a heap on the ground, soon to be over taken by the fire. Her pale hand reached up to wipe at her mouth. Though his excellent eyesight could not see it through the momentary haze, he knew that it would be streaked with crimson.

She turned around; her once black eyes changed back to their original shade of blue. Black meant hungry which she was no more. Suddenly she was upon him as if she had been next to him the whole time. A wintry hand laced its way around his, a stark contrast to the pressing heat.

A slow smile lit up her devastatingly beautiful features as she said, "There you are, dear. Have you had your fill as well?"

----

REMUS LUPIN sat wearily in a hard, wooden chair in the dining room, waiting on the Order meeting to convene. His skin still felt hot; he could not shake the scalded feeling that hung about him, only his hand remained cold. Smoke continued to fill his senses even after having awakened from the dream hours ago. More disturbing to him was the woman and her words. Because he had felt as she had indicated.

It made him feel sick all over.

Suppressing a shiver, he glanced over the equally silent occupants that filled the room. Not even Tonks, usually jubilant to be in from a mission, seemed not to have much gusto for cheerfulness. He lingered on Hermione, remembering her confession of nightmares. She looked dead on her feet, pale and was scribbling on some parchment with an absent look in her eyes. It seemed she faired no better than he.

His thoughts were broken by Minerva sweeping into the room. Dark circles ringed her eyes. After Dumbledore's death, she had been the natural choice to head the organization, a tiring job indeed. Of course, her job as headmistress no longer existed. The night Albus died so did the school. Not only did most of the defenses fall with him, but students were taken out in large numbers by their parents, fearing for their safety. As if hiding away in their homes was any safer. As if Voldemort could not sniff them out.

Palms spread out on the table in front of her, Minerva scanned the silent group in front of her. "I want to hear reports on our current operations starting with Shacklebolt."

The large man leaned forward and solemnly reported that Death Eater activity had slowly decreased in the shady part of London he was monitoring. Nothing new was to report. Tonks was next. Although, they did seem to be planning, no one knew as to what and the front had become so scarily quiet she even questioned that knowledge as a bluff. Around the table, people reported the sudden silence from the enemy, eerie in its consistency as if the group was trying to melt into oblivion.

"I don't like. I don't like it one bit. It can only mean they are planning something major, something huge." McGonagall adjusted her glasses before peering over them once more. "I want you to get in closer and see exactly as to what they are conjuring up, but I do not want you too close as to get burned. Do you understand me? Tonks?"

The woman jumped at her name, but nodded. A few ops back she had nearly been caught after crossing a Death Eater held line and getting lost in their terrain. An absolute nightmare.

"What could they be doing?" pondered the older witch aloud, voicing the entire table's thoughts. What could require such manpower, such concentration as to pull back most of the ground force? "Merlin, we certainly won't want to know when we find out."

The grim faces did not lighten as the quick meeting was adjourned and some of the Order members scampered out hastily into the night. Several stayed, glad for the actual bed and a Molly Weasley meal. Remus rose from his seat near last, stretching his aching muscles. Casually, he walked behind Hermione on his way to the kitchen. He glanced down at the petite witch, drawn up into her chair, still putting the quill to the parchment. A single name was written on the paper.

Julius.

Repeated over and over again in different scripts and sizes, but still the same.

_Julius_ **Julius** Julius

**Julius** Julius Julius _Julius_

Julius _Julius_

"Hermione," he said gently. She stopped in mid-_l _and snapped the quill in two from the halt. Sharply, her eyes shot up, an oddly frenzied look still about her. She almost seemed mad for the interruption. Continuing, Remus coaxed, "Molly has supper ready. It's time to eat."

At that, Hermione appeared to remember her surroundings and roughly pushed the broken quill and paper away from her. Her drawn face forced a smile as she replied, "Alright, I'll be there in a second."

Remus returned the smile before moving into the kitchen. When she did not immediately follow him, he peered around the doorway to see her tossing the writing supplies into the nearest fireplace. Her blank face watched the flames lick around the items before consuming them. Then she shuddered, not as if unexpectedly chilled, but from something that crossed her mind. Thereafter, she dropped her face into her hands in a tired expression before dashing up the stairs.

He could only stare after her as she made her disappearance, wondering whether or not he should see if Hermione was alright. Molly beckoned him toward the table. Remus hesitated. If this strange behavior continued, then he would most assuredly try to find out the problem. Surely the idea of not being able to look for Horcruxes was not plaguing her again? He did not know and turned to sit at the table.

Hermione did not come back down for supper or for the rest of the night.

No one questioned it. She was oft for taking to her room whenever the mood struck her. She hardly ever left after the accident that barred her from any further soul hunting and the lack of her friends had driven her to extreme loneliness. In seclusion, she stayed for the rest of the week. Remus did not intrude upon her privacy; they all explained to him that this was how she dealt with things. Frankly, it didn't seem healthy at all to him. He would ask her. He would.

The entire week Hermione sat in front of the full length mirror in her room. Sometimes, she would reach out and trace her reflection, expecting it to waver and become something else. But it never did. _Marguerite_. The name flowed flawlessly from her lips. Yet as she sat there staring at her own wide brown eyes, the name came again and she jumped back from the mirror as if burned.

After that, she decided she had had enough of wallowing in her room and that damned mirror. Plus she was getting hungry; sneaking around in the kitchen was not as filling as an actual meal. Weary smiles greeted her return to the table, several days after the invitation.

"Good to see you out and about, Hermione," chirped Mrs. Weasley cheerfully. "How about a nice steak? A little celebration for Remus' upcoming birthday," the man scowled at her at the mention, "and they were on sale. How would you like it cooked tonight?"

Without hesitation, Hermione answered, "Rare."

All the necks swiveled around to look at her. Those few and far between occasions they had managed to get steak, Hermione had never asked for it rare. Medium, medium well, yes. Bloody, never. She looked shocked by her own request and looked down at her empty plate.

"Are you sure?" asked Molly.

Hermione bit her lip and furrowed her brow, fighting an internal battle. Slowly, she nodded, "Yes, I'm quite sure."

"A record," the older redhead muttered, "two rare steaks in one night."

Hermione side glanced down the table and found the other culprit. Remus was devouring a steak that looked as if it had barely touched the grill. The slab of meat sat in a pool of its own blood that was making Tonks queasy as she tried to shield her eyes from it.

"Wotcher, Hermione," she mock whispered down, "make sure when you get yours it's not still mooing like the one Remus has."

Once again, he scowled in her direction, making a grunt of dissatisfaction, and continued cutting at his meal. The sizzle of hers hitting the heat kicked Hermione's senses into high gear as the aroma hit her full in the face. The smell of the blood was dizzying, but not the in the I'm-about-to-be-sick sort of way. She reveled in it, licking her lips in anticipation. A few of the Order members found her rapt attention amusing, but that was fast wiped from their face as she shouted that her steak was done enough.

"It's barely been on there a couple of minutes," Mrs. Weasley protested as she prodded it with her wand.

"I'm sure it's fine. It looks fine." Hermione had a hysterical edge to her voice. The longer they argued over it, the more red was cooked out, the less blood. Hermione felt a sudden pang of nausea at the thought, but it quickly dissipated, overridden by the other urge.

Silas Thomson squinted incredulously at her outburst. "It'll be riddled with germs and bacteria." Clearly, a half-blood with a Muggle mum doctor.

All the voices and appalled faces faded away as she eagerly grasped at the plate, almost dropping its precious cargo. Within five minutes of setting the plate down, Hermione had devoured the steak with minimal cutting, even tipping the dish back to catch any left over liquid. Coarsely, she wiped her mouth in one swipe with the napkin, leaving it stained pink.

That taste, although tainted by cooking, of blood was intoxicating. She felt like she was on some sort of high after eating the steak. As she descended from it, the faces were all shock and surprise. That did not deter her next thought of actually eating it completely raw or even if she bit into it while it was still alive…

Her mind swiftly snapped as if shaken from the inside and she felt overwhelmingly sick. Her stomach churned and she clutched at it. It boiled and rolled. Why had she asked for it rare? Another gag reflex. Why? Jumping up from the table, she hastily excused herself and dashed off for the bathroom. Concerned voices echoed after her and a few chairs scooted backwards as she left her own.

No amount of heaving would expel the contents of her stomach. She leaned back against the cold tile, glad for the feeling on her flushed face. It was like she had dozed off in the kitchen, not asleep, still vaguely there, but then had abruptly awoken to that stark white licked clean plate and blood stained napkin. And what she had down hit her square in the face.

_It wasn't that bad._

Shut up, she screamed internally, pressing her hands to her ears in vain for the voice was not coming in through there.

_Admit it. You enjoyed it. _

Hermione shook her head no.

_He did not get sick, but you did. A weaker vessel could not have been chosen. I should have tapped around for leaks first._

You are just imagining this. It will go away. It always does. It's just the pressure. The worry. The stress. Imagination. Hermione repeated her mantra over and over, trying to drown out the cool, feminine tone that resounded in the mind.

_As you wish. For now… for now be you. Just for now._

Then the velvety smooth whisper faded away back into the recesses of her brain. Hermione's eyes flashed open as it completely disappeared. She wished Harry and Ron would visit soon so she would not have to stoop to talking to herself. Which was what she was doing, right? She leaned her head heavily on her hand and thought. Someone had been talking to her…that was for certain…but…

Her crazed streams of thought were broken by a soft rap on the door. Reaching over, she turned the knob from her seated position and looked up. The shoes led to the slack which went with a shirt that had Remus' head on top. Remus, of course. How he fought back Molly was a mystery.

"Are you alright?" he asked genuinely concerned, looking baffled down at her face that was the same color as the white tiles. "Back there in the kitchen, I mean, it was so-"

At the word _kitchen_, Hermione's floodgate of a mind opened up and barraged her with images of the bloody meat and her carnal appetite for it. This time she heaved for real. She flung her head over the toilet and gladly rid herself of her supper. Remus moved forward and held her hair as she clung to the side of the basin. After a few moments, Hermione quieted and leaned back, eyes closed.

"Better?" Remus handed her a hand towel to wipe her face and conjured a glass for some water.

She nodded before leaning back against the wall. "How did you stand it?" Her voice was shaking. "How could you eat it like that? All the blood…"

"That's how I always get it." Remus' face became expressionless. "I always order mine rare."

"No, you don't," countered Hermione. "You get it medium rare. I remember, because you joked you'd rather have it leaning toward medium than rare."

His tone was stiff and he looked at her unblinkingly. "I do not need to remind you of what I am. That should be explanation enough. I'm not all man." The last came out as a growl.

Involuntarily, Hermione found herself leaning away. "Alright," she conceded, "alright. There's no need to get angry."

"Apologies, Hermione. I had no reason to be so short with you, but while we are asking, why did you get yours that way?"

An insatiable thirst roared up through her along with a high, piercing laughter. The blood; the warmth, the taste, the texture, the life. That was why. When the wave left her, she felt sick again and weak. "I don't know. Honestly, it was the oddest impulse. Let's just agree to disagree or whatever it is we are doing and don't bring it up again." Her eyes pleaded with him.

"Of course, but I can't promise that the others will do the same. You attacked the poor thing as if you hadn't seen food in months and then licked it clean."

"Merlin, I know, don't remind me. It's this house. It's this damn Black Manor. Drives a person mad!"

Remus allowed himself a slight chuckle at that before offering a hand to help her up off the floor. Her hand was like a block of ice in his and it brought back a haunting memory. "Aren't you cold, Hermione?" he asked, taking hers between both of his hands as if to heat it up.

"No." She shrugged. "Should I be? Is there something wrong?" she added after seeing his expression.

He released her hand. "Nothing. You just felt a little chilled is all. Now," he ushered her down the hall, "everyone else has retired so I'd suggest you do the same; you look beat."

"Thanks," she mumbled sarcastically as she stumbled down the hall and fell into her bed without even changing.

Then the screaming began again.

----

Eeny, meeny, miney, moe

Her fingers flicked rapidly amongst the group. She knew none of them could keep up with the speed at which her hand was moving. Much too fast for them. Finally, she settled on a broad shouldered man with a woman cowering behind him. Simpering, pathetic idiot she was.

She lit up a smile at the curly haired man, grinning suggestively. He came toward her with no objections, only a silly, lopsided grin. They were so easy, it was pitiful. An alluring blossom with the teeth of a carnivore. They only noticed the teeth until they were too close. She wrapped him in her tight grip, letting his neck fall loosely by her face, exposing the soft skin to her.

His wife started to scream again. What an annoyance. Shut her up, Julius, for supper's sake! His striking amber eyes found hers and he was way ahead of her, pulling the woman out of eyesight and soon the screams stopped.

She smiled again. Peace at least. Lovingly giving his jugular on last stroke with her finger, she lowered her lips to it before unleashing her sharp teeth onto his throat. The blood flowed freely now, but he did not struggle. They never did, paralyzed by her nature venom.

Red dripped down her bottom lip as he began to run dry. She let him fall to the dirty ground before surveying the crowd. Now they were terrified. With no where to run.

She wiped the excess blood off her face. No need to get messy at the dinner table. Julius walked back into view, covered in crimson. What a pig! Her finger trailed a line of blood still at the corner of her mouth. She grinned again, licking it off.

That was the appetizer.

Now for the main course.

----

HERMIONE BOLTED up in her bed, pressing her fingers to her bottom lip. Even in the dim light, she could see the blood coating them. The intense pain that radiated from her mouth told her that she had bitten down hard on her lip.

Biting back a scream.


	3. seized

darkisrising (everyone tip your hats off to connieewing for prodding this chapter out of me. And to jackie who will physically harm me for anymore tardiness; and no, I do NOT think about Shelton when I write HG/RL scenes… I swear… Her-me-own…)

lovely, dark and deep

seized

* * *

Darkness encompassed her, wrapping around her movements like a protective shield. Behind her a man followed in her shadowed footsteps. Her breathing lightly condensed unevenly in front of her. The protective charms and curses surrounding the area had proved harder to break than expected. The effort of getting through had winded her. Twigs snapped noisily under her feet, causing the man to give her a stern look. She reddened with embarrassment and tried to tread quieter. After several hundred feet, a clearing appeared at last. The bonfires dotting the meadow made up for the crescent moon's dimness. Weeks of spying, conniving and tracking were finally paying off as the two came upon the sound of voices. 

Tonks and Rutherford halted at the tree line, out of sight of the people milling about. Her face mirrored his surprise at the sheer number of people in front of them. The black cloaks and white masks revealed their identity as the Death Eaters realigned their circle around the biggest flame. This was where they were shrinking back into. No wonder no one was left to defend the lines; there were close to ninety people packed into the space, and this was only the first group they had been able to hunt down.

In silence, they watched three people be led forward from the farther, blacker recesses of the woods. They were not crying; their eyes were blank under the Imperius curse. Clearly Muggles from their clothes. Another oddity explained; the lack of bodies left over from Voldemort strikes. Instead of killing off the victims, they were dragging them away. A strong baritone sounded out across the void, but Tonks paid it no mind as she stood spellbound by the scene before her.

Soon the captives made up an inner ring as the Death Eaters encircled them. Low voices became to chant and soon the din swelled up to nearly a roar as the large group of men and women shouted in unison. Abruptly it stopped and one voice rang clear.

"Jump!" it commanded.

All of the Muggles turned around and flung themselves into the fire. Tonks involuntarily squeaked then hastily covered her mouth. One last string of the incantation was completed before the fire burned a pure white and no trace of the Muggles could be seen. The flames crackled and popped unhindered as if nothing had ever disturbed them.

"Be free Othello Pope!" shouted the familiar voice from earlier.

The group echoed, "Be free. Be free." The two words echoed back through the standing masses like a wave receding as it became fainter and fainter with each line until it ceased altogether.

Tears shined in Tonks' eyes as they glanced at Rutherford's disgusted face while three more people were led forward.

As the Death Eater leader bellowed out the beginning, "Return, return from the ashes we call…" the veteran Order member could only mutter, "Merlin save us all."

"I highly doubt he can help you," said a cold voice behind them. "Why, he's dead and I don't think we'll be calling him back for assistance; he'd just join your side."

Each turned quickly, wands drawn. The smirk could nearly be seen through the man's blank white mask. Reacting before the other two, he quickly gave his wand a slight flick, sending the Order members staggering backwards into the clearing where black robes descended upon them immediately.

----

"WHAT IS your deal, Hermione?"

Her eyes snapped abruptly back to Ginny's face at the irritated words. She had not realized she had been staring straight at the redhead's throat and she sure did not know for how long. Hermione bit her lip in agitation at her gaze's wandering.

"Nothing, nothing at all," was her hasty reply as Hermione returned to look at the book she had been studying. _Horcruxes: A Damned Immortality_. She couldn't remember when she had looked up and had become entranced with the constant thump of Ginny's pulse inside her jugular. One minute she was reading about soul splitting, the next being accosted for gaping.

Heaving a sigh, Hermione snapped the ancient book shut, allowing her eyes to close briefly in kind. She was getting a headache; actually she seemed to suffer from an impossibly large number of them recently. Maybe it was another aftereffect from that Horcrux she had came upon before…before she had been permanently assigned post at the Black Manor. That damn Horcrux she had handled was the entire reason she was holed up in the place.

_My idiotic descendent of a Black handled this much better than you. But I must admit it would be nice to leave this hole. Much easier to wreak havoc. _

God, the voice.

Had Sirius been plagued as she seemed to be? Hermione stood as if to escape it, and her eyes slid toward Ginny's reclining figure to see if she heard anything amiss. But she continued reading the latest _Witch Weekly_, unaware of the smooth female voice.

I'm insane, was all she could think.

_No, but you will be before I'm finished with you. _

A laugh resounded in her head that was not her own. Hermione rubbed her neck in anxiety and quickly exited the room so her face wouldn't betray anything. Voices only you could hear were never, ever brought up. War did things to people. Being cooped up did things to people. She would get through this momentary lapse.

Rushing up the stairs, she ran into Remus hurrying down them. Their shoulders collided and Hermione felt as though she had been given an electric shock. Briefly she met his eyes which looked as confused as she felt then another feeling took over. Hermione was overtaken by the sensation of falling backwards, but she was not moving down the stairs. No, it was more like pitching into oneself, a wide, gaping black hole that sucked her down. Her body tensed then went rigid. A seizure wracked her frame then another in quick succession. As her mind blanked completely and she was engulfed by the fit, Hermione really did start to tumble down the stairs. Quick hands grabbed her before she met the hardwood, holding her as still as he could manage. Remus began yelling for help.

Ginny Weasley followed by her mother and another Order member ascended the landing. This sort of incident was not new to any of them. The Healers said the poor girl may never be rid of the magically-induced epilepsy that the Horcrux had cursed upon her.

"Get her to her room," ordered Molly as she helped Remus get Hermione up the stairs. "We'll have to get the medicine again. This looks like a bad one." Her motherly face softened as she clasped the violently twitching girl.

Instantly, Molly sent the other man back down to the kitchen to fetch the medicine and prepare it properly since it spoiled quickly after the last ingredient was added. Hermione continued to thrash silently on her bed. The bed sheets twisted around her. Ginny stood off to the side, wringing her hands and looking ashen. She had been on that ill-fated trip and every time she saw the aftereffects it still sickened her.

Remus maintained his hold, keeping her arms as stationary as possible. Her slack mouth began to twitch as though the ill woman found something funny and was trying to suppress it. Soon that was overtaken by a quiet, gurgling sound. The three in the room exchanged looks; she had never uttered a noise before during a bout. They drew in closer as the sounds of the other Order wizard's footsteps pounded on the stairs.

The chortling contorted into a laugh that twisted her face into a maniacal expression. As the man entered holding a steaming goblet, the raving had reached ear-splitting shrillness as the crazed sound filled the room. Both Molly and Ginny gazed on with panic as Hermione slithered and shrieked like a banshee. Remus beheld her with a curious expression as if not affected at all by the noise.

He motioned the man over to administer the draught. Hermione began to quiet and still once more; her eyes ceasing their rolling. Remus let her go and removed himself from the bed. "It seems to have stopped," he said quietly to Mrs. Weasley. As the man bent over her, her hand struck the cup, sending its contents flying all over his robes. Only the werewolf caught her lowly uttered words.

"My turn."

Hermione's eyes snapped open. With surprising speed, she shot up into a sitting position, surveying the stunned occupants. Before any could react, she bounded agilely from the sheets. Teeth beared in a threatening smile, she soon became a blur racing toward Ginny who looked too stunned to move. Remus moved out and caught her arm, swinging Hermione back hard from her momentum. Her feverish eyes caught his causing her to show more teeth in delight. His face blanked.

"Marguerite."

Not a question, but a statement. Without another word, he released her, watching what happened next in a state of disinterest.

The entire exchange between the two had happened so quickly that Ginny was still unprepared as Hermione slammed into her body. No wand could be drawn fast enough as the normally calm and collected brunette sunk her teeth brutally into the redhead's neck. The howl of pain that emitted from Ginny was followed by a ragged hex, sending the other woman spiraling across the room.

Hermione lay in a subdued, unconscious heap on the wooden floor. Her crimson-stained mouth contrasted sharply with her pale skin. Mrs. Weasley rushed to her daughter who was scrambling to get up and keep a hand over her gushing wound. Remus, having snapped out of his temporary lapse, knelt next to the woman sprawled by the bed. The other man looked as though he could not decide between the two so he rushed downstairs to find something to bind Ginny's injury.

"What the bloody hell?" moaned Ginny not even caring about using swear words.

Molly, busy assessing the bite mark, turned her attention to Remus. "What has gotten into her? Is this another development from the Horcrux?" She whispered the last word as if the blacked out Hermione would still be angered by it.

"I don't know. We'll have to see when she wakes up. Maybe she'll remember something." He began to pick up Hermione and seeing Molly still there he said, "Take care of Ginny. I'll see that Hermione's alright."

No more words were needed to usher the two out as Ginny hobbled swiftly away with her mother's help. Remus easily picked up Hermione and placed her once more onto her bed. Sitting down beside her, he conjured a handkerchief to clean her up. However, he could not stop himself from tracing around her lips and watching the blood gather on his finger. Remus popped it into his mouth without a second thought. Before he knew it, he had closed his eyes in ecstasy over the taste. And that was only a drop.

He wanted more.

Breathing becoming hitched, he lowered his face to hers, brushing back her curly hair. No reaction came as his lips ever so faintly grazed hers. His hand found the back of her neck and brought her closer. He found the bottom lip very satisfying and not just because it was thickly coated in blood. His tongue greedily flicked quickly across its expanse, ensuring not a speck was left behind. Remus advanced down her abnormally chilled jaw, and found himself nuzzling into her neck, reveling in the loud sound of her heart.

As he continued to hold on to her, Hermione groaned softly and stirred. Remus blinked rapidly and raised himself off her. Seeing what he was doing, he released his entwining arms as if on fire, letting her fall back onto the pillow. He continued to blink as if emerging from sleep and could not help but look at his arms in dazed bewilderment. Her arm shifted upward across his knee; her hand lifting toward her head. Remembering suddenly why he was even there, he took up the small white square of cloth, making quick work of the remaining blood. Rising, he used his wand as a lighter, igniting the kerchief's edge. He watched it burst into flame and tossed the soon incinerated temptation into the metal trash bin. Turning away, he rubbed over his own mouth to remove any unwanted remnants of his crazed actions.

Hermione became more audible. He heard her rise up in bed unsteadily and felt her eyes on his back. Composing his features, he swiveled around to face her. Gingerly, she was rubbing the back of her head where she had collided with the wall and regarded him blearily. Trance-like, her index finger skimmed over her flushed, distended lips. Taking in the sheets and the worried expression that slipped through his façade, she stated numbly, "I had another fit."

"I'm afraid so." Though, he could easily confess to one of his own and of an equally scary magnitude. But he would keep that fact to himself for the time being.

Her features became ashamed and she dropped her face down into her hands. Remus hesitated. He hovered in the indecision of going to her and yet giving her space. Going with the in between, he moved closer, but did not sit. After that emotionally close moment earlier, his inability to get any nearer was almost laughable. Almost. If only he could explain the reasoning behind it, actually if only he could explain what had transpired over the past hour. Giving up on logic, he conjured up a glass of water, handing it to Hermione. She took it, swigging down the colorless liquid and grimacing at what must have been quite a taste in her mouth.

Commencing to massage her injury once more, she routinely asked, "How long? Have I been out awhile?"

"Not any longer than usual. About ten to fifteen minutes, relatively short compared to the one a few weeks ago." His mouth turned down at the thought. Quite nasty, she had really fallen down the stairs that go around.

"And what the bloody hell did I fall on this time?"

Choosing silence for the moment, Remus tentatively examined the back of her skull with his fingertips, finding a large lump amongst her thick hair. A quick wand wave found it slightly smaller and had eased enough of the pain to lift the painfully tense posture from Hermione's form. As if that mattered, she was of course still awaiting an answer.

Testing the waters, he asked, "Hermione, how much do you remember of the incident?" His hand rested briefly on her curls. "About the bump on your head?"

She screwed up her eyes, furrowing her brow in concentration. Her entire body was throbbing and the horrid metallic taste in her mouth lingered. It was hard enough attempting to remember without all the painful distractions. The first flicker was back to the stairs and the familiar feeling of losing control. Except this time instead of falling into the darkness and then slowly coming back later, she had been thrust under and then repeatedly pushed down, comparable to someone trying to drown her. Drown her in her own unconsciousness. A faint chuckle resounded in her memory. Her eyes opened uneasily at the implications that brought.

"I was on the stairs again. But," she massaged her temples, "I didn't fall down them this time. You got to me, didn't you? Yes, yes you did." She shook her head affirmably, feeling the arms that held her still. "After that it becomes so fuzzy. I'm not really sure; I'm sorry. Remus, you know what it's like to have your mind, your control taken from you. Everything just," she waved her hands in an attempt to find the word, "fades away."

"Yes, I understand," answered Remus quietly, taking a seat on the edge of the tussled bed. She slumped against the headboard in forlorn resignation of the blackout. "But sometimes it does come back, it clicks into place. I have found myself recalling a few nights I thought long lost, very few of them pleasant. Now, does this room bring back anything, anything at all?"

"Remus," began Hermione exasperated, yet consented to try again after he persisted in giving an earnest look. Her eyes flitted about the four walls as if they would give some hint as to what kind of answer he was after, coming back to his face. A dark red stain was smudged along his jaw. From the looks of it, she would say it was blood. The coppery tang on her tongue persisted. She knew the taste then. Her hand flew to her mouth in astonishment and disgust. The laughter came again, no mere memory this time; it was ringing in her head. _Me, me, __ME! __ME! _Another twitter. _It's been so long since I've had a taste and you were indisposed at the time, so I just took a little bite._

"What have I done?" He did not respond. "Remus? Remus! What did I do!?" She sat up closer to him, demanding an answer.

He cleared his throat before dignifying her query. "You attacked Ginny." Remus scanned her expression for a recollection, but seeing the confusion and fear, he continued, "Hermione, you bit her on the neck. Your head injury is a result of the hex she used to get you off; you were thrown into the wall." He pointed to indicate exactly where each event had transpired.

Breathlessly, she asked, "Is Ginny alright? I mean, it's not bad. I haven't done anything severe…"

"No, she walked out under her own power and the lesion is quite repairable. She'll recover just fine. You're the one we are most worried about. We fear this could be a new development concerning the Horcrux; its exact nature is still a mystery to us."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at the news she had not killed Ginny as she had initially feared. This feeling evaporated as she zoned in on the splotch of crimson trespassing on Remus' jaw line. Everything around her began to get hazy once more as the only distinct item remained the blood. Lightly, her fingers touched her lips once more before dazedly touching the drying, congealed spot of liquid. Transfixed by her actions, Remus did not budge under the contact, not wanting to be the one to break the spell she had fallen under. Drawing a line with the tips of her fingers, she came to rest at the edge of his mouth, connecting the two as if she knew all along what he had done. Later, Hermione could not explain why she pulled even closer to him, eyes fluttered closed and hand at his cheek. Nor could Remus clarify why he was leaning in so very near her parted lips or why his arm was where it was.

Molly Weasley burst in unannounced as Hermione and Remus were mere inches apart. Each jumped away from the other; he stood in alarm at the sudden appearance. She sat up much straighter, wide-eyed and mouth in the from of an O. Neither had time to control their surprise or humiliation at being caught in such a predicament. To hedge off any embarrassing questions, he informed the older witch that Hermione was fine except for a tender bulge on the back of her head and that she had very little recollection of what had transpired. A quick goodbye wave and he lowered his head, retreating quickly out the door.

Both women eyed him as he turned the corner; each with a very different question in mind. The ginger-haired woman bustled over to the bed and handed Hermione a dreamless sleep potion. After all the excitement of the day, she could only benefit from several hours of undisturbed rest. Gulping down the viscous drink, her eyes instantly drooped. Mrs. Weasley maternally rearranged Hermione's hair out of her face as she drifted off to sleep, making sympathetic noises as she left the room and turned out the lights.

----

"Piece of scum! Slanderous Squib! Shame of my flesh!" her father screamed at her. His deep blue eyes flashed with anger and Firewhiskey. She had already been backed into the wall, cowering in the corner with no means of escape. Staggering forward, he continued his tirade, advancing on her silent figure. Had her mother still been alive her voice would have added to the mix; the two could scream in harmony. But her mother never raised her hand against her and could on occasion convince her father to do the same. Now she was gone and nothing stood between the two.

"Useless dirt. Abomination," he continued his degrading as she kept her lips firmly pursed to keep from making any noise. Crying was even worse as she looked weaker than before. He soon grew tired of shouting and of her cringing. Quickly, he downed the last drops of alcohol and sent the bottle hurtling across the room to smash less than a few inches away from her. In the firelight, his eyes gleamed murderous and his steps became more purposeful.

Before she could flit out of the corner, his large hands encircled her neck, pressing furiously around her windpipe. "Father," she gasped out desperately and clawed at the fingers cutting off her air. "Please…"

He bared his teeth as he gritted them in his effort. "You might as well be a Mudblood for all the good you are to me, Marguerite. Nothing but a freak. You are no daughter of mine. I'll end you without magic; it would dishonor any spell to use it on you."

Seeing the black edge her vision, she could only plead silently. The world was becoming darker and darker; there was no air. She did not want to die. It was too soon; she was not ready. Panic filled her first at the thought of actually dying. That crippling emotion was replaced with hate at what he kept muttering in her deadening ears and with rage at _him_. For making her life a living hell and now he was trying to send her there himself. Such powerful feelings bubbled and coursed through her sluggish blood.

Stop.

I hate you.

STOP!

I HATE YOU!

With a deafening crack, her father was flung across the room by an invisible force. Falling to the ground, she clutched her throat and coughed trying to gulp down precious air. Shock rushed through her at the sight of the heaped body lying vulnerable and still. No one else was in the room; nobody was there to have rescued her. Relinquishing her neck, she stared down at her hands and at her body, laced painful in a fashionable corset. She stared back at her father and recalled the amount of force that had sent him sailing through the air. The power to do such a spell wandlessly.

Carefully, she rose off the ground and staggered over to his motionless form. A satisfied smile itched at the corners of her mouth as she stood over him, now the one in command. With great difficulty, she managed to collect enough saliva to spit on his well-kept robes, and then kicked him hard in the stomach. He groaned, indicating he had not died just yet.

"And you've never been any father of mine, you vile son of a bitch."

----

REMUS HEARD Hermione struggling with sleep, despite the fact her slumber should have been devoid of dreams. He paused outside her door until the noises had stopped. At the moment, he dared not reenter the room for fear he may find himself falling back under the enchantment from earlier and then doing things he had never thought he could. Molly would be by soon to check in on Hermione so he did not feel too bad for continuing on his way toward his room for well deserved rest of his own.

Stripping off his robes, he pulled on a shirt that he often slept in before crawling into the ornate black lacquered bed. He needed to enjoy an actual mattress while he could since he was scheduled to move out tomorrow on a mission. He wouldn't see the comforts of home for at least another week or so. Turning on his side, he slid easily into the oblivion of sleep.

----

Dusk had fallen and the excitement nearly caused him to explode. He sat in the middle of a dense thicket, shockingly naked next to a pile of tidily folded robes with a wand hidden beneath them. His face was eagerly facing the east and a smile cracked at the sight of the full moon ascending from the horizon. A savage howl ripped through the silent night as his body shuddered and fell upon the grass, morphing and melting painfully into the shape of large wolf. He shook his newly sprouted coat of dark brown fur and howled once more with fervor.

Saliva dripped from his mouth as the scent of a boy whipped up on the wind. He cocked his head in the direction of the smell and then dashed off toward the fragrance. Deftly, he ran through the trees and bushes, undeterred by the restless movement of animals around him. Soon he was upon a small farming community, the huts all neatly lined up around a central muddy street. A laugh echoed from one of the backyards. His prey was running around in his peasants clothes, oblivious to what lurked a few yards away in the underbrush. When the boy's mother retreated inside for a short moment, he struck swiftly and clamped around the boy's neck, preventing a scream as he dragged the child into the darker parts of the woods.

The woman's piercing shrieks and yells did not bother him as he finished up his dinner, taking time to lick away the blood that had wetted his fur. Standing to leave, he caught another distinct odor in the air. Others. Two pairs of shining amber eyes gazed out from the nearby shrubbery. He growled a greeting as the two other werewolves approached him, looking interestingly at the mangled, red pile next to him. They barked back in kind.

If the animalistic noises could have been translated, it would have been, "Hello, Mother and Father."

"None for us, Julius? Have we taught you no manners?"


End file.
